


Maybe More Than He Should Be

by MellytheHun



Series: Tumblr Sterek Prompts [8]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Caretaking, Fluff, Good Alpha Derek Hale, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Pack Bonding, Pack Family, Pre-Slash, Prompt Fic, Tumblr Prompt, fic prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-28
Updated: 2017-06-28
Packaged: 2018-11-20 00:56:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11325318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MellytheHun/pseuds/MellytheHun
Summary: Prompt: "Finding the other wearing their clothes."





	Maybe More Than He Should Be

Derek is the last to shower - the gore on him was probably the worst and the stink of it is going to linger in the loft, he can already tell. The Pack is his to take care of, though and he wanted them all clean and off to bed before him like his mother once pestered him to do. It’s a small sacrifice really and one he’s bizarrely glad to make.

After the frights of the night that had come to a head after weeks of cumulative horror and murder (lamias, as it turns out, are fucking horrifying and difficult to kill), he just wanted the Pack to have some time to decompress. He invited them all back to the loft, to clean up, to eat something and to stay for the night if they liked. None of them seemed to want to be separated and Derek could understand. He'd appreciate them staying with him too, though he'd never admit it.

They ate as much as they could stomach after witnessing so much violence, then off to the showers they went. One after one, Derek watched Isaac, Scott, Allison, Erica, Boyd, Lydia, Jackson and Stiles all hog the bathroom in sequence. He set out blankets on the two couches and loveseat, not needing any of them to tell him that most of the them wouldn’t want to leave the loft tonight. He put up chamomile tea (Lydia, Allison and Isaac seemed endlessly grateful to him for it), he opened the windows so the Weres’ sensitive noses wouldn’t be too offended to sleep (Boyd gave him a very grateful and very tired nod of thanks) and he waited his turn.

Allison, Isaac and Scott all fell asleep under one of those blankets on the couch. They in no way looked comfortable, sprawled and tangled like that, but they were warm, safe and content. Derek can’t ask for much more.

Erica wound up in Boyd’s arms, the both of them on the floor, with Boyd’s back propped up against the wall, his head tucked on her shoulder and her long, wet hair curling the more it dried against his night-shirt. Derek draped a spare sheet from the linen closet over them and even Boyd, ever-vigilant, didn’t stir. They must have all been exhausted - Derek’s bones too were screaming for his bed, but he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep anyway if he didn’t tend to the Pack first.

Lydia and Jackson wear absolutely no shame, showering together and afterward, collapsing onto the smaller couch, adjacent to the longer one that Isaac, Allison and Scott were all snoring on. They curl up into each other wearing makeshift and borrowed pajamas. Lydia falls asleep with her face pressed against Jackson’s chest and his hand stilled in her hair from having pet it until he too nodded off.

Stiles goes in after them, grumbling about no hot water being left and it might be that very fact that has him keeping his time in there short. Reserving what heat is left for Derek in a show of thanks. He nods a very tired head in Derek’s direction to indicate the bathroom is free and Derek gladly moves for it, taking his time to watch the grime, brown dirt and red blood swirl down the drain.

He takes a long time in there, staying until all the hot water is truly gone and he steps out feeling like he’s shed some filthy outer layer of skin. He rubs a towel over his head, drying his hair messily and he slips directly into flannel pants, eager for the comfort of his bed.

When he steps out from the bathroom, he’s greeted with a fascinating sight that gives him pause, though.

On the loveseat, under a beam of moonlight, Stiles is absolutely dead to the world, with no blanket, but wrapped up in Derek’s leather jacket.

Derek stares for a while, listening to the resting heartbeats and soft snores of the group around him. Stiles breathes softly in his sleep, his mouth hangs open a little and Derek can’t figure out why Stiles didn’t just go to the linen closet for an extra blanket - he knows the loft well enough by now and he doesn’t usually hesitate to invite himself into Derek’s belongings (by which, Derek really means that Stiles and Scott raid his fridge and pantry with wild abandon and no help in paying for groceries).

He’d even ask Stiles to explain why he didn’t just fetch a blanket when he knows where to get them - Stiles is fast asleep, though, curled into a fetal position, his bare feet looking somehow fragile and strangely endearing. Derek walks over to him, watches him tug the leather jacket more snuggly around him in his sleep and Derek smiles. Something warm settles in his chest and he leans down, breathing in deeply.

The scent of Stiles quite literally wrapped up in the scent of _him_ makes his pupils blow wide, makes his heart thump and his eyes flutter shut.

Without thinking much about it, he slips his arms under Stiles’ shoulders and knees, lifting him from the loveseat and carrying him to his own bed. He tugs the blankets down, lays Stiles against his pillow, but he doesn’t take his jacket back.

He likes Stiles in it.

He pets back some of Stiles’ hair and watches with sleepy contentment as Stiles nuzzles into Derek’s pillow, sighing and exuding an air of comfort and a feeling of safety.

Derek never really thought a thing like his jacket might become associated with a feeling like that - a feeling of security. And he certainly never thought that association would be born in someone like Stiles.

“Goodnight, Stiles.”

He tucks the blankets in around Stiles and takes the loveseat for himself. He turns it enough so that the boy’s in full view from where Derek is gradually relaxing enough to sleep - he’ll fall asleep partially upright, watching Stiles from a yard away.

It’s gonna put a crick in his neck in the morning and it’s not precisely a sacrifice he’s making for the sake of his Pack… he’s still happy to make it, though.

Maybe more than he should be.


End file.
